As the guards entered to drag Altair away, Jareth fell into step beside me, his grin firmly in place. “Well, that was fun. I give it a solid eight out of ten for theatrics. But next time, maybe let me squeeze some answers out of him first. I have a way with people.”
I didn’t reply, though my lips twitched briefly—whether in irritation or amusement, I wasn’t sure.
Jareth nodded and followed Altair and the guards out the door.
Without warning, the shadows in my office deepened. A chill swept through the air, and I braced myself, already knowing what was coming. I didn’t need to look up to feel his oppressivepresence, like a storm cloud descending over my carefully ordered world.
My father appeared in the corner of the room, his dark figure materializing as if birthed from the shadows themselves. His eyes gleamed with malice, the same cruel glint I had known all my life, and his smile was a mockery of warmth. He looked at me as though he owned me—in some ways, he still did.
“Ah, my prodigal son. You’ve been busy.”
I kept my expression neutral, though my shadows stirred uneasily. “I handle my affairs as I see fit.”
“Your affairs,” he mocked. “How quaint. Hiring a pretty little enforcer plucked right from Vincenzo’s lap. Taking scraps now, are you?”
The blood drained from my face, though I didn’t let it show. I’d been meticulous in crafting illusions and barriers onto my father to keep his reach from penetrating my estate. But he had still found out about Camilla. How?
His smirk widened as if reading my thoughts. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, boy. Did you really think you could keep secrets from me? I have eyes and ears everywhere. Every whisper in this house reaches me eventually.”
His words were a punch to the gut, but I refused to show weakness. “Camilla’s skills are a benefit to my operation. I don’t take scraps—I take what’s useful.”
“Useful?” he sneered. “You’re playing at being a king when you’re still just a boy playing with shadows. And worse, you’re borrowing from Vincenzo. Taking his leftovers like a little bitch. How pathetic. Have I taught you nothing about strength, about taking what is yours?”
“I don’t need lessons from you,” I said coldly, curling my hands into fists. “Not anymore.”
His low, dangerous laughter filled the room like a dark tide. “Oh, Raffaele,” he said, his tone almost pitying. “You’ve forgotten your place.”
Before I could react, his shadows erupted from the corners, slithering toward me like living nightmares. They struck with a force that sent me crashing to my knees, driving the wind from my lungs. Pain flared through my chest as one shadow wrapped tightly around my torso, squeezing until I thought my ribs would crack.
“Is this what you’ve become?” His voice dripped with disdain. “A weak, simpering fool who thinks he can outmaneuver me? You can’t even protect yourself. How can you fucking rule over your territory and those you absorb?”
Fury surged through me, but I couldn’t summon the strength to act. His shadows lashed at me again, searing pain slicing through my shoulders and back. I gritted my teeth, trying to dampen the blows and shield myself with my own shadows. But for some reason, my defenses faltered. Every strike cut deeper, every wave of agony coming sharper than the last.
What was fucking wrong with me?
I clawed at the floor, my vision blurring as the blood from a gash on my forehead dripped into my eyes. My father’s shadows dragged me up, suspending me in the air like a broken marionette. Another tendril struck my ribs, and I felt a crack.
“You think you can deceive me?” Thorne snarled. “You’ve always been a disappointment, Raffaele. Weak, soft, vulnerable. I should have cast you aside years ago.”
His shadows twisted around my throat, cutting off my air. My vision darkened at the edges, and for a moment, I thought he might kill me here and now. But he loosened his grip just enough for me to drag in a breath, the sound ragged and desperate.
Through the haze of pain, my thoughts drifted to Vivian. At least I had kept her safe from him, hidden away where hiscruelty couldn’t touch her. The bond hummed in my mind, a small anchor in the sea of torment. I clung to it even as my father continued his assault.
When he finally released me, I crumpled to the floor, every nerve in my body screaming in protest. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as his footsteps echoed around the room. He crouched beside me, his voice low and full of malice.
“You’ll never be free of me,” he said, his fingers brushing against the bloodied skin of my cheek. “Remember that.”
And then he was gone, vanishing as suddenly as he had appeared. The shadows receded, leaving the room eerily quiet. I lay there for what felt like an eternity, gasping for breath and trying to see through the blood that blurred my vision.
Eventually, I forced myself to move. Every step was agony as I stumbled toward the door, my body trembling with the effort. My mind raced with questions. Why had his torture been so much worse this time? Why had my shadows failed me?
The hallway stretched before me like a cruel joke, the distance to my room impossibly far. I made it halfway before my legs gave out. I hit the cold, marble floor as my vision dimmed. Blood pooled beneath, and every breath I took was labored.
Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I felt the faint stirrings of the bond. A flicker of warmth and concern. Vivian.
Even as darkness claimed me, I clung to that slight connection. It was the only thing keeping me tethered to this world.
25
